


The Mother of Dragons

by ThePavilion



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Gen, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-21
Updated: 2015-06-21
Packaged: 2018-04-05 11:40:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4178454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePavilion/pseuds/ThePavilion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aenar Targaryen brought five dragons to Dragonstone.</p><p>One died.</p><p>Three were given to the heads of the greatest dynasty seen in Westeros.</p><p>What happened to the fifth?</p><p>The Dragons and their eggs had to come from somewhere.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Mother of Dragons

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or locations. All mentioned are owned by GRRM. I do not make any profit and this is a product of fanfiction.
> 
> Unbetaed. All mistakes are my own.
> 
> First fanfic. Please comment appropriately.

 

** White Ash **

 

 

“I name my champion…fire.”

Ser Jaime Lannister watched with external indifference as Lord Rickard Stark, chained by the hands of royal guards, was suspended into the air. He tried not to flinch as the proud man, Lord of House Stark, Warden of the North, began to scream within the confines of his armour, his legs kicking away at the green flames rising beneath him.

Not a sound was heard within the Throne Room. Not one word was uttered by the nobles that were forced to attend, save the grieving screams of the dying Lord’s equally dying son Brandon Stark and the delighted laughter of Aerys II of House Targaryen and Lord of the Seven Kingdoms.

This was no honourable death for anyone, let alone for these men. This was for show, a form of twisted entertainment given to the nobles from their venerable king. For a show of respect, an irony if there ever was one, Jaime turned his eyes away from the dying Starks. He focused his eyes and thoughts onto the statue placed by the side of the great room, almost hidden within the large alcove.

The Blue Eyes White Dragon.

Jaime could hear the sound of his brother Tyrion’s voice in his head. His young voice full of awe and knowledge as he lectured his older brother on its history. The largest statue in Westeros, its body is the same length as the Throne Room, with the exception of its tail whose length coils underground and its head which was so large, it was the only thing that could be seen within. The unknown stone which made up the entirety of the statue was so white and pure, it was often thought it made its own light and not sourced from the fire. Many tried to break a small sample of the stone for investigation, but every tool used broke and blunted, while the statue kept unaltered. Some would have named it Balerion, if it weren’t for two things.    

There was a reason Balerion was named The Black Dread. History told that the dragon was of black scales with red eyes. Would it not have been more prudent to use similar materials to replicate the real thing? Instead the unknown sculptor used white stone and unflawed sapphires as eyes. There were no dragons recorded whom lived after Balerion that had the same description.

There was also the small plaque by the side of the alcove. So small, so out of the way and so unassuming, most would have thought it was a besmirching of its true name if it wasn’t for what it said. In High Valyrian it read:

The Blue Eyes White Dragon.

Here lies the Mother of Dragons.

It was rumoured that this was the true God ( _“Goddess!” Tyrion corrected with a roll of his eyes_ ) the Targaryens worshipped. With the exception of Baelor, the people can have the Seven, while the dragons have their Mother. Jaime had no doubts about this, as he would often see King Aerys and his sons worship the statue. Their eyes reverent and their touch soft, as they caressed the dragon’s scaled snout.

“Beautiful, is she not?”

Jaime started and turned to see the King standing next to him, his glazed eyes riveted on the statue. Jaime looked around to watch as the last stranglers walked out of the room, the bodies of the dead Stark dragged away with them by some of the guards. Their fearful eyes were ignored by the king, who continued to monologue the history of the statue. Jaime took note of some that directly contradicted his brother’s knowledge.

“I am the blood of the dragon,”Aerys announced, his voice raspy with overuse. “The fire will break this prison and the dragon shall rise again.” The king turned to stare at Jaime. His purple eyes glazed, but held an intensity, that to Jaime made him look on with unfamiliar clarity that sent chills down Jaime’s spine.

“The dragon will burn them all.”

 

0|=|=========>

 

All was for naught.

Jaime watched as King Aerys shouted for Varys and Pycelle to leave the throne room, the men scurrying out of the hall. Spittle was all over the Mad King’s matted and dirty beard, alongside everything else that clung to its unwashed tresses. The wild screams of the king could not drown out the screams of people outside, as they faced the Lannister forces unhindered.

Jaime had begged his king to surrender peacefully, to surrender was to live. But the king would not hear of it. By the advice of that grey-sunken cunt of a Grand Maester, Aerys opened the gates to King’s Landing and chaos ruled as the city was pillaged in the name of Robert Baratheon.

“I want him dead, the traitor!” Aerys roared at Jaime, when he learned of Tywin had entered the city, his wide blood-shot eyes staring at him. The lights of the fires outside, shined through the windows, making him look even gaunter. “I want his head, you’ll bring me his head, or you’ll burn with all the rest!

“All the traitors.”

Jaime was torn. His King ordered him to bring him his father’s head. But the love he held for his father stayed his hand. Jaime watched as the king scurried to and fro around the Throne Room, like a rat in fear of the waters that surrounded it.

Suddenly he froze in front of the Blue Eyes White Dragon, he stood as still as the statue. He began to murmur words and Jaime had to walk close in order to hear.

“Burn them all,” was what Jaime heard. Aerys body moved back and forth in time with the chant. “Burn them all. Burn them all.”

Sensing movement, Jaime turned to watch as Rossart, Aerys’ newest Hand and Grand Master of the Alchemist’s Guild enter the room, one hand holding a torch. A rat of a man, if ever Jaime saw one, he went straight to the King’s side taking no notice of Jaime.

“It’s ready, your grace,” Rossart said, taking out a small vial out of his robes. With a large smile, Aerys grabbed for the vial and the torch. He turned to his last Kinsguard and declared with a mad smile:

“The blood of the dragon!” Lighting the wick attached to the vial, he threw it at the foot of the statue. Shocked, Jaime watched as the wildfire sprung forth underneath the statue, almost immediately consuming it in its green flames.

Suddenly the statue came alive, the dragon gave out a mighty roar that shook the foundations of the Keep. Jaime clamped his ears as the dragon continued to roar, its piercing screech was like nothing Jaime heard before. It was like the roar of all beasts in the wild put together. He knew that it could be heard outside. Bloody Hells! It could probably be heard in The Wall. Jaime watched as the dragon stood up on its legs, her leathered wings coming out that easily broke the walls of its alcove like the walls were made out of sand. The wings began to flap, the wind that it created almost lifted Jaime off his feet.

The King was dancing in glee, his arms waving about and his cackles were not heard but seen. His hair was flapping about, the crown of Aegon the Unworthy the only thing keeping it on his head. Jaime could see some of the soldiers through the rubble, the fear on their faces transparent; Lannister and rebel forces alike. Jaime slowly took off his hands from his ears.

“…burn them all!” The Mad King screamed. “Burn them all in their homes. Burn them in their beds!” Then he screamed a series of words in High Valyrian. It took Jaime a moment to realise what the king was doing. Aerys was ordering the dragon and pyromancer alike to burn down the entirety of King’s Landing. Jaime knew Aerys ordered the Guild to place caches of wildfire around King’s Landing, he just didn’t realise they were all going to be used.

Jaime froze in fear. All those innocent men, women and children. Seeing movement, he saw Eddard Stark and his men standing by the entrance to the Throne Room. Stark was staring straight at him while his men stared at the dragons in fear. They were speaking Eddard and him; no words needed to communicate.

Rossart only took one step towards the door, before Jaime used his sword to cut off his head. One moment of hesitation and then a moment of determination before Jaime drove his sword into his king’s back. Aerys stopped his dance, a look of surprise on his face at the sight of a blade through his chest. The king turned his head to Jaime, his voice laboured, his lips slowly painted with blood red.

“My kingsguard,” he said, a look of betrayal in his eyes. With a mighty heave, Jaime pulled out his sword. Aerys staggered at the movement, his legs barely keeping him upright. His face was grimaced in pain, Targaryen blood running through his elongated nails as he held it to his chest. Jaime watched as Aerys' face twisted monstrously, the king realising he was surrounded with traitors and looked up to the dragon.

“Burn them all! Burn everything!” He was still ordering the beast. With the thought of his oath running through his head, Jaime Lannister cut the throat of the king. They all watched as Aerys II Targaryen, Second of His Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, fell to the ground at the feet of Jaime Lannister.

 

0|=|=========>

 

Eddard Stark, now Lord of Winterfell, watched as young Jaime Lannister stared down at the body of the Mad King in apparent shock. It shocked him also, to watch Tywin Lannister’s son, act nobly and knightly and kill the king in a just act. And it was Just.

If it wasn’t a Lannister and Tywin’s son no less, Eddard could honestly say he would see this act as what it was. To save the lives of everyone. But he was ashamed to say, it took him a moment to see what Jaime had to do in the sake of everyone’s lives. They would have all stood there dumbly if it wasn’t the roar of the dragon that suddenly started them out of their shock.

The sight of the now animate famous statue (who was no longer a statue) of the Blue Eyes White Dragon was a sight to behold. But what happened next would be one of the most shocking events in the rest of Eddard’s days.

“Help me!” the dragon said, the regal voice of a woman. “Please help me!” Ned watched as suddenly the scales of the white dragon began to slowly fall off, the dragon staggering to its hunches.

“What’s happening?” Jaime screamed at her.

“The ritual,” she answered, her breath laboured, her sapphire eyes drooping. “The King did not complete it. Complete it, to let me live.” Ned hesitated to comply. Here was the weapon Aerys was going to use to kill everyone. Here was the epitome of the Targaryens’ might, their strength in their hold of Westeros. He could see the thought going through his men’s minds, as they too looked lost and hesitating. But what surprised Ned, was Jaime Lannister’s next actions.

“What do you need?” the young lion asked, no wariness on his face, just determination.

“Blood. I need blood mixed with wildfire, there should be a vial in Rossart’s robes,” the dragon answered. Giving the dragon a look, Jaime immediately dug through the robes of the dead pyromancer’s body. He made a triumphant noise and lifted a small vial that had a wick attached to it. “No! No Targaryen blood!” she practically roared when Jaime looked down at his bloodied sword. Letting go of his sword, he took out his dagger. With one last look at the dying dragon, Jaime made a cut on his hand and mixed his blood with the wildfire.

“Thank you,” the dragon said in relief. “Throw it at my feet and say these words,” she recited a string of High Valyrian words which Jaime repeated with some difficulty as he threw the vial. Again, a burst of wildfire sprung forth at her feet, consuming her body. “Plunge your sword into my heart!” she ordered. “Please, it will not hurt me,” she said when Jaime hesitated.

“Lannister,” Ned said and without forethought he through his ancestral blade, Ice, into the hands of the lion. He could imagine the shock on his face mirrored the one on the young lion. He didn’t know why he did it. All he knew was it was the right move to make.

“What’s your name?” Jaime asked when he hefted the greatsword. Ned wanted to slap the back of the young man’s head. What kind of question was that, in a time like this? But the dragon didn’t look put out with the enquiry. In fact, she looked like she was looking at Jaime with fond affection, however a dragon can show affection.

“Brienne,” she answered. “My name is Brienne. And you ser?”

“Jaime,” he said pulling the sword back. “My name is Jaime.”

With all his strength, Jaime plunged the sword into the dragon’s chest. Suddenly the dragon, Brienne, gave a mighty roar and then exploded into a burst of white ash that caused everybody to fall on their back in the sudden pressure.

 

0|=|=========>

 

Finding himself staring at the ceiling of the Throne Room, Jaime sat up and found himself and everybody else covered in deep white ash. Coughing, he took the time to take note of everything before what happened a moment ago took hold in his mind.

With a sudden fear, he looked around with any sign of Brienne. Suddenly something moved in the snow-like ash. A mound suddenly started to form, before a creature burst forth that caused everybody to startle back in shock. It was Brienne. Only a smaller version of the once giant dragon. The white dragon, who was a head taller than Jaime himself, came close to him.

“Brienne?” he asked warily, staring closely at the sapphire eyes.

“Hello Jaime,” Brienne answered, her voice now sort of disproportionate to the now smaller and younger body. The dragon then made a move, what could not be called anything other than a nuzzle, onto his face. Her snout, whose scaling skin was surprisingly soft, nuzzled alongside his face and then his golden hair, before pulling back to stare at his face. Jaime could not look away from the intense way Brienne was looking at him.

“I am yours and you are mine. From this day until the end of our days.” Shocked from the words that sounded like marriage vows, Jaime held onto Brienne’s now unconscious body in reflex, staggering at her weight. Clutching at her surprisingly soft and warm body, he looked up at the frozen Stark men and felt lost.

“Help.”

 

  

    


End file.
